


Children Will Listen

by wewriteletters



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Depression, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Mutism, Possessiveness, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Series, Trauma, Young Malcolm, jessica: the risk I took was calculated but man am I bad at math, martin being a terrible father wbk, yes I am naming all my fics after songs from into the woods keep scrolling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-22 10:42:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21300722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wewriteletters/pseuds/wewriteletters
Summary: "Malcolm worshiped his father. I thought if he could see what he really was, maybe he would come back to me."Four months have past since the arrest of Martin Whitly and, with Malcolm still not speaking, Jessica makes a drastic choice. Sequel to No One Is Alone but can be read individually.
Relationships: Gil Arroyo & Jessica Whitly, Gil Arroyo & Malcolm Bright, Malcolm Bright & Jessica Whitly, Malcolm Bright & Martin Whitly
Comments: 13
Kudos: 147





	Children Will Listen

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again! I wrote this very quickly (like in the span of two days) and wanted to post it before the new episode because I have a feeling we'll be getting more info about Malcolm's childhood that will make my own headcanons irrelevant rip. Anyway this is a sequel to "No One Is Alone," but like I said in the summary it can be read on its own. 
> 
> For some canon background, this story is based on the conversation Gil and Jessica had in 1x03 where it was revealed that Jessica was the one to first sent child Malcolm to see his father (see the quote in the summary) coupled with what we learned in 1x06 about Malcolm not speaking for months after his father's arrest. In addition, almost all the dialogue in Martin and Malcolm's conversation is taken from the flashback scene in the pilot where young Malcolm visits his dad. I'm just trying to connect the bits of info the show gives us together because I have too much time on my hands lmao. Hope you all enjoy!

“Jessica, that is a terrible idea.” 

“I didn’t expect you to like it. I don’t like it either. But what else can we do?”

“Literally anything else in the world besides this.”

Jessica sighed, frustration building in her chest. She hadn’t expected Gil to support what she was suggesting, but hearing him rebuke her out loud just irritated her. He was acting like they hadn’t already tried everything else in the world. 

It was approaching the four month anniversary of Martin’s arrest. And Malcolm still hadn’t said a single word. 

The situation hadn’t been easy on any of them. Jessica had to do her best to juggle all the issues that came with a change as dramatic as this. Martin had been diagnosied as a sociopath, found incompetent to stand trial, and sentenced to Clarmount Psychiatric Hospital for the Criminally Insane. If the public hated the Whitly’s before, Martin avoiding an actual prison sentence created a fury in the people of New York, disgusted that a man like The Surgeon would avoid what they considered real justice.

Jessica wasn’t happy with the sentence either; her ex husband deserved to rot in the most horrible prison imaginable. But Martin hadn’t been completely wrong when he told her how good his lawyer was, and it certainly didn’t hurt that Martin still had many friends in high places, willing to overlook a couple dozen dead bodies for the man who had once been considered the most talented and innovative surgeon in the country.

Jessica hadn’t shown up to any of Martin’s court hearings, but his attorney and Gil kept her updated on the proceedings. She knew she had to be aware of what was going on legally, but she also felt it was distracting her from what should be her top priority; her children.

Ainsley was as settled as any child who lost a parent could be. She had always been such a mommy’s girl anyway, it was much easier for her to adjust to life without Martin. The hardest part had been explaining why daddy wasn’t coming back, but after Jessica had managed to resolve it as best she could, the young girl had bounced back fairly quickly. She had a few nightmares and tantrums in the following months, but had gone back to kindergarten two weeks after the arrest with no problems, short of Jessica having to engage in some very awkward conversations with Ainsley’s teacher and principal about their home life. 

Malcolm was taking it much harder. 

That was probably an understatement. Jessica couldn’t even begin to categorize how much pain Martin’s arrest had brought on her son.

Malcolm’s silence was the most notable symptom of his unease, but it also manifested in seemingly countless other ways. He would go back and forth between total silence, not reacting to anything, completely expressionless, to having full on meltdowns, crying and screaming and lashing out at anyone who would attempt to comfort him. And these moods never seemed to have any rhyme or reason; Jessica could never predict when or why he would go from sobbing to shutting down. 

When Malcolm wasn’t crying or playing a statue, he was having a panic attack, hyperventilating and shaking while Jessica or Gil tried to talk him through it. He was always on edge, always anxious; Jessica could see it in his eyes, even when he wasn’t speaking or making any other facial expressions. Like his fits of tears, the panic attacks didn’t seem to be triggered by anything either; he would be sitting at the table for dinner when he’d suddenly curl into himself and bury his head in his knees. 

Malcolm was also having nightmares increasingly often. They weren’t like Ainsley’s; she would wake up scared and crying, but Jessica or her nanny would be able to soothe her back to sleep. Malcolm never went back to sleep after a nightmare and his reaction was always much more extreme. He would wake up screaming himself hoarse, scratching at himself, sobbing as if he was in intense physical pain. And even worse, Jessica could never comfort him. No amount of cooing “it was just a dream, dear,” calmed him down, and sometimes he would slap her approaches away, still partially trapped in his nightmare. And since he wasn’t talking, she couldn’t even get out any details of what was tormenting him so much. All she could do was wait for him to tire himself out, staying in the room so he wouldn’t accidentally hurt himself. Once he was done crying or screaming, he would revert back to his expressionless state, as quickly as someone could flick a lightswitch. And he would just stare down at his blanket until it was morning, Jessica forced to bare witness to her child’s suffering. Sometimes it became too much to handle and she ended up calling Gil (he always took her calls, no matter how late) and asked him to come over and stay with her son. 

School was not going well either. Jessica ended up keeping him at home a full month. The administration was generally understanding, this was after all, a very unique situation, but as the third week gave into the fourth week, Jessica began receiving some not so subtle reminders that if her son wanted to keep his place in the class he would have to start coming in again sooner rather than later. 

Gil had suggested hiring someone to teach Malcolm at home, at least for the reminder of the year, but Jessica couldn’t bare placing another reminder on her son that he wasn’t normal. He needed to be with kids his own age, be around people who weren’t his family or Gil or Gil's wife or doctors. Unfortunately, Malcolm’s transition back to school was met with nothing but more issues.

For one thing, Jessica soon realized that even if Malcolm had been talking, none of the other kids would have responded. At a meeting with his teacher a week after he had come back, she gently told Jessica that other students weren’t even attempting to talk to her son. But they sure talked plenty about him.

The teacher brushed it off as kids being kids, but Jessica was furious, especially after the woman implied there wasn’t much she could do to quell the rumors that were already spreading. It practically ended in a screaming match, Jessica sharply reminding Malcolm’s teacher just how much she donated annually to the school, how much she paid in tuition, how she would hope an institution of this prestige would be able to handle a matter like this. After storming out of the office, Jessica grabbed Malcolm and practically pulled him out to the waiting car, barely concealing the tears in her eyes. After that, whenever Malcolm was away, Jessica couldn’t get the image of her son sitting completely alone at the lunch table, the other kids not even wanting to be near him, out of her head. 

To make matters worse, it wasn’t long before Jessica realized Malcolm’s mood swings did not go away just because he was in school again; a week and a half after his first day back, Jessica got a call around lunch time, telling her she had to come get her son because he was crying and no one could calm him down. She ended up sending Gil, too exhausted to deal with the look of simultaneous pity and disapproval that she knew the secretary would be wearing. Malcolm was home less than an hour later, face still wet with tears and holding a mostly melted ice cream cone. Jessica took one look at her son and couldn’t take it, she turned and went back upstairs, wanting to cry herself. As she ascended the staircase, she heard Gil’s gentle voice: “Come on kid. Let’s go sit down, you can finish your cone.” 

There had been some progress of course. Gil always made sure to remind Jessica of that, but to her these small victories meant little in the grand scheme of things. Gil, along with his wife, Jackie, had been a great support system for not just Malcolm, but for Ainsley and Jessica herself. Despite his first couple interactions with Gil being rocky, Malcolm immediately warmed up to Jackie, giving her the first smile Jessica had seen on his face since Martin was arrested. The interaction made her feel conflicted; she was glad her son was coming out of his shell, even for a moment, but it pained her that it was with a complete stranger and not his mother. Malcolm almost seemed to be more reserved around her, at least compared to how he behaved around Ainsley, Gil and Jackie. 

Since then, Jackie and Gil had basically became honorary members of the family. At first it was mostly Gil coming over to give updates on the case, Jackie sometimes accompanying her husband with home cooked meals for Jessica and the kids. But over time they would come over just to play with Malcolm and Ainsley or watch them so Jessica could have some time to herself. Malcolm always seemed to be slightly more at ease when they were around, even if neither Jackie or Gil had been able to get a word from him. 

And then there were the seemingly endless list of doctors Jessica had brought Malcolm to, psychiatrists and speech therapists and social workers and specialists of all kinds, willing to pay top dollar to get her son the best treatment the city had to offer. None of them had been able to get him to break his silence, but they had put words to her sons reaction.

Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Generalized Anxiety. Depression.

Those were all diagnoses Malcolm had gotten over the past few months. Along with them came prescriptions for pills, to help him sleep, to help him feel less anxious, less sad. Gil seemed comforted by the fact that they at least now had a starting point, that they knew what they were dealing with, but hearing those clinical phrases just reminded Jessica of how real everything was. Malcolm wasn’t having a temporary fit of nerves. He was never going to be the same again.

Gil had begun looking for a therapist for Malcolm since the week after the arrest, pouring over recommendations from NYPD social workers and his associates who worked in juvenile court, until he narrowed it down to a handful of people. He and Jessica settled on Doctor Gabrielle Le Deux; her office was close to the Whitly home, she specialized in treating children who had dealt with trauma, and she had an opening in her schedule for the very next week. 

Working with her was probably the most progress Malcolm was making. Like Jackie, he seemed to quickly warm up to Doctor Le Deux. He didn’t talk to her, but he seemed willing to express how he felt through toys or sand trays and after a couple months together, she got him to respond to yes or no questions by nodding or shaking his head. He had even created a few hand singles he would use when he wanted something. 

Gil was ecstatic at the development and Jessica wished she could share his enthusiasm. But it was so hard to look at this entire situation as anything other than one step forward, two steps back. No matter what, Malcolm’s bad days always outnumbered his good ones and there were many times when Jessica was convinced she had lost her son completely. So what if he could point to a cereal box to ask for breakfast maybe once every five days? Jessica did her best to mirror the praise Gil and Jackie always gave Malcolm whenever he attempted to communicate in some way, as Doctor Le Deux has told them to do, but in an hour Jessica knew she would have forgotten his momentary openness. She knew it was all temporary, fluke incidents, and that soon he wouldn’t even look in anyone’s direction. 

Four months was too long a time. Doctor. Le Deux had emphasized how important patience would be in the process, but Jessica couldn’t take it anymore. There were only so many times she could watch her son sit completely still, completely silent, for an entire day. 

And that is what lead her to making such a drastic decision. 

“We have tried everything else, Gil. I am so tired of seeing my son like this. I will do anything to help him get better, you know that.”

“Jessica he is getting better, you’ve seen how much progress he’s made! But you know what could undo all that; letting him see his father again.”

Jessica almost wished she hadn’t told Gil about her plan. It wasn’t his choice anyway, it was hers, but she still felt obligated to let him know. He was such a big part of Malcolm’s life now, it wouldn’t be fair to keep him in the dark.

So she had invited him over for lunch. Malcolm and Ainsley were both at school so she didn’t have to worry about either of them overhearing their conversation. Louisa had prepared a full meal for them both, Jessica reverting back to her role as hostess like she always did whenever she felt like she wasn’t in control of a situation. 

After skirting around the topic for the first ten minutes, Jessica finally drummed up enough courage to propose her...unorthodox idea for treating Malcolm; allowing him to visit his father, just once, so he would actually realize what a monster he was.

Needless to say Gil didn’t take it well.

“How can you say he’s getting better when he hasn’t said a word in months? How long is too long for you? 6 months? A year? The rest of his life?”

“Jessica-”

“I am losing him, Gil. You don’t get it.” Jessica had been attempting to keep the conversation civil, using the most polite tone she could muster, as if the two of them were planning a gala and just had a slight disagreement on the seating chart. But the calm and collected facade she put on for the rest of the world always fell off when she talked to Gil about her children. “He...he doesn’t even smile at me. He’ll sometimes smile for you and Jackie and Ainsley and even his therapist but not for me. Do you know how that feels for me as a mother?”

Gil wanted to protest, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to change Jessica’s mind. He knew she felt like she was unable to connect to her son anymore, especially when compared to himself or Jackie. He hated that she was so hard on herself; it was clear Jessica assumed her son would never love her like he loved his father. But that didn’t mean it was a good idea to throw Malcolm back to the man who had traumatized him in the first place.

Gil took a breath, trying to wrangle in his own emotions. “No, I don’t know what that feels like, but I can imagine it must be painful. But you can’t just project this on to Malcolm, he loves you, he’s just having a hard time processing what happened.”

“This will work, Gil, I know it will.” Jessica brushed off his reassurances, she didn’t believe them and she also didn’t want him to turn this into a therapy session for her own issues. This was about Malcolm. “The reason Malcolm is acting like this is because he’s so...frustrated. He doesn’t understand what happened, he doesn’t understand how horrible his father is. If he just sees him locked up, sees what he did, he’ll get it, I know he will.”

Gil sighed again, thinking of how best to discourage Jessica from going down this path. He knew he had no real say in the matter, but he had to at least attempt to appeal to Jessica’s rational side. “Have you even talked to Malcolm’s therapist about this? What did she say?”

Jessica scoffed dismissively. “The same wishy washy answer she always has; it could give him closure, but it could also backfire and cause him to shut down more.” 

Jessica hadn’t wanted to tell Gil the second part, but she knew he would never believe Doctor Le Deux had given her unconditional approval. She took a sip of her drink and continued, trying to keep her voice light, but flippant. “She’s clearly just covering her bases, you know shrinks, they’ll never give you a straight answer.” 

Gil hesitated. He could see the point about closure, but he didn’t feel like that potential benefit outweighed every other horrible outcome that was possible. The past four months had felt like a full year and he knew they felt even longer for Jessica, but the kid was making progress and he had faith that it wouldn’t be long before he began speaking again. 

“Jessica, I just don’t think this is a good idea. I mean, just a few weeks ago you were refusing to even mention Martin’s name in front of the kids, now you want Malcolm to see him in person? You told me that the last thing you said to him was you and the kids would never see him again, and now you’re already giving in? How can you give Martin that satisfaction?” 

“You’re acting like I want to do this. If I could, I would wipe every one of Malcolm’s memories of his father. But I can’t keep pretending that things are okay.”

“Please, just listen to me.” Gil was growing concerned. He felt Jessica’s idea was based more on her own fears than any logical assumption of how it would help Malcolm. “You don’t have to do this.” 

“I don’t have a choice!” Jessica retorted, betraying her emotions even further. Gil could see the genuine fear in her eyes, as her brain quickly ran through scenario after scenario of what life would be like if Malcolm never spoke again, never opened up, eventually shut down completely. 

What if her son just never came back to her?

“I’m not asking for your permission, Gil. I am simply doing the courtesy of informing you because I know you are close to my son.” Jessica forced herself to hold the fear back, putting all her walls back up around her and trying to stand her ground without shaking. “I refuse to sit back and watch my son get any worse. How am I supposed to help him if I can’t even understand him?”

“Jessica, I don’t think he can handle something like this-”

“He needs to know the truth about his father.” Jessica was, if nothing else, stubborn. She wasn’t going to drop this idea. It killed her that it came to this point and, despite what Gil implied about her being too impatient, she really felt like this was her last ditch attempt to help her son. “Malcolm still loves him. He loves him more than he loves me. If he just...looks at him, sees him for who he truly is, I know he will finally realize how ridiculous he’s being!”

Gil looked down at his half eaten meal, both of them forgetting their lunch in the heat of their argument. He wasn’t going to change Jessica’s mind. All he could do was try his best to support her and support Malcolm. He tried so hard to convince himself that maybe there was a secret brilliance to Jessica’s plan. But all he could see was giving Martin Whitly exactly what he wanted.

Still, he knew when he’d been beat, and he resigned himself to agreeing with Jessica. On one condition. 

“Okay. I know I won’t change your mind. But I’m coming with you both.”

\---------------

Less than a week later, the trio was sitting in the lobby of Clarmount, waiting for the guard to tell them Martin was ready to receive visitors. Malcolm was as quiet as ever, staring at his hands that were folded neatly in his lap. Jessica couldn’t tell if that was good or bad; at least he didn’t seem ecstatic to be here, but part of her had hoped that just being in the building would snap Malcolm out of this state, and he wouldn’t even need to see his father.

“Malcolm, it’s chilly in here, put your sweater on.” Jessica handed him the wool garment. The building was at least a century old and the heating system had clearly seen better days. Jessica was trying to keep herself from shivering. 

Malcolm took the sweater and put it on, all without looking at her. Jessica glanced over his head to Gil, their expressions mirroring each other; confused, nervous, frustrated. 

They had both been stressing about this since they mentioned the idea to Malcolm. Jessica had agreed to at least ask Malcolm if it was something he wanted to do, but that didn’t make Gil feel any better; he honestly would have been surprised if Malcolm hadn’t wanted to go.

And, just as he expected, the second the question had been spoken, the kid was nodding. His face remained neutral, but his nodding was much more vigorous than it had been at any other time. Malcolm clearly knew what he wanted.

It was impossible for Jessica to feel any kind of pride that her idea was coming together; Malcolm’s compliance just further highlighted the distance between her and him, another reminder that her son still wanted his father, no matter what he had done.

As the day of the visit grew closer, Malcolm seemed to get more anxious. Jackie spent a lot of time with him, when Gil was at work and Jessica was taking care of Ainsley or just needed a break (and a few drinks), and she told them both that he seemed to be more on edge. Jessica didn’t want to believe her at first; after all she could tell Jackie was furious at her for deciding to take Malcolm to see his father and was only keeping these opinions to herself out of fear of offending Jessica. But Jessica had been noticing it as well and it almost made her rethink the entire idea.

But she couldn’t. God knew that no matter how nervous Malcolm seemed at the idea, suddenly telling him he couldn’t go would just trigger a meltdown. 

So here they were, sitting in uncomfortable chairs, in a room that was colder than it was outside, Jessica and Gil both trying to pretend they weren’t ten seconds away from picking Malcolm up and running back to the car. 

“Hey, kid.” Gil had turned in his seat to get Malcolm’s attention. The boy didn’t look up at him either, but Gil continued on regardless. “Remember, you don’t have to stay in there long. No matter what your dad says, it’s your choice how long you're with him. If you wanna leave early you just get the guards attention and he’ll bring you back out here to us. No one will be mad at you.”

Malcolm shifted slightly in his seat, beginning to play with a loose thread on his sweater. If Jessica didn’t feel so nervous about simply being in the same building as her former husband, she would have snapped at him to stop unraveling it. 

Jessica and Gil went back to silence, both having tears threatening to fall if they spoke more. The tension and sorrow that seemed to physically engulf the room made the decrepit decor of the lobby seem cheery by comparison.

“Mrs. Whitly? He can come in now.” 

Gil shot Jessica a nervous look over Malcolm’s head, which she returned. He put his hand on Malcolm's back and gave it a comforting pat. “Alright kid, it’s time.” 

Jessica looked back to the guard, wiping her eyes instinctively in case they were wet. “Thank you. Just one moment.”

Malcolm stood up and Jessica knelt on the ground in front of him, putting her hands on both his shoulders.

“Remember what we said Malcolm; you can leave whenever you want. Listen to the nice guard, don’t do anything unless he tells you it’s okay.” She closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. “I love you so much. We’ll both be right out here.”

Jessica planted a quick kiss on his forehead, before standing up again and nodding to the guard. He came over and gestured that Malcolm could come along. The child’s expression was still vacant, his eyes more concerned with the tiled floor than the man next to him. The guard attempted to take his hand but Malcolm sidestepped to avoid the contact. He glanced back at Jessica and Gil before leading Malcolm away. 

Into the lion's den.

Jessica stood, still staring at the door the two went through, while Gil whispered a prayer behind her.

\---------------

His dad was in a cage.

Malcolm didn’t know what he was expecting to see. It looked a lot like the jail cells he saw on cartoons. But this one was real. He wasn’t allowed to touch the bars; the guard had listed that, along with about a dozen other rules, as he walked Malcolm to his father’s room. Malcolm didn’t know if he’d want to touch the bars even if he was allowed to.

He didn’t know what wanted at all lately. 

He knew what his mom wanted. She wanted him to talk. Malcolm realized that. He wasn’t trying to be difficult on purpose. He just didn’t know what he could say that could actually encompass what he was feeling. His feelings were too...big. 

Whenever he tried to put words to his emotions, they just came out in cries or screams or gasps. And that upset his mom even more. 

It was all too overwhelming. He felt like there was a weight on his chest that was slowly crushing him. Malcolm knew no one would understand how he was feeling, he didn’t even understand how he was feeling, so no amount of encouragement or promise of reward or his mother crying in frustration was going to make him speak. 

He had been excited to see his dad. And nervous. What if his dad hated him now? Malcolm was the reason he was locked up, what if he never wanted to see him again? 

Malcolm’s feelings about his dad were the biggest and most confusing.

He knew his still loved him and he felt guilty about it. Everyone else hated him; his mom, Gil, Jackie, his teachers, the kids at school, the lady on TV with a microphone and curly brown hair who Malcolm sometimes watched when his mom was asleep. So why couldn’t he bring himself to hate Martin Whitly? 

On the other side of the bars, the man who had caused all of this was feeling much less conflicted. In fact, he was feeling nothing less than pure joy that his son was in front of him. After Jessica stormed out of their first meeting in prison, he had thought he would never see his boy again; that woman was headstrong to a fault and hated, much like himself, not being in control.

So even though when the guard told Martin three days ago that his son was coming to see him, he did not give any reason why Jessica had suddenly decided to allow visitation, Martin still knew exactly what caused her change of heart. 

Malcolm was just being too difficult for her. He was ruining her image of the perfect mother. The restrained and confident woman whose children always minded their manners and never fought with her. He knew Jessica, he knew her first impulse after his arrest would be trying to force everything and everyone back into normalcy. But Malcolm wouldn’t play that role for her. 

His wife had never understood the boy, not like he did. And of course she had come running back to him the second she finally realized that she could never help him the way he could.

If Martin played his cards right, what he was sure was only supposed to be a one time technicality could easily form in to regular visits. 

Even from a cage, he could still guide his son down the right path.

“Malcolm my boy, it is so good to see you again.” Martin smiled, examining his sons expression and posture, trying to infer what he was feeling. “I feel like it’s been years. Did you grow another foot? I swear I hardly recognized you when you walked through that door.”

Malcolm remained stationary, quiet, but his eyes betrayed anxiety and, to Martin’s pleasure, a hint of excitement the man figured was not often there these days. 

Martin nearly chuckled to himself. If this is what Malcolm was like at home, he was shocked it had taken Jessica this long to bring him here. Although he hated to give his ex wife any kind of satisfaction, he knew exactly what she wanted from him and he was going to provide it.

Just get a word from him and Jessica would never be able to keep them apart. 

Martin took a step forward, wanting to get as close as he could without touching the bars. He knew he had to obey the rules of this place, or the guard would just take Malcolm away from him. What he wouldn’t give to take the other man out right now, steal his keys, open the cage and give his son a hug. 

“How have you been doing? Are you learning anything interesting in school?” Martin knew he couldn’t rush the boy, he had to act like this was just a normal conversation, exactly the same as the millions they had had over homework on the dinner table or medical books in his study. Just ignore the bright orange jumpsuit, guard in the corner, and the literal cage, and it would be just like old times!

Malcolm didn’t know what to say. Which didn’t really mean much since he hadn’t known what to say for a good four months. But this time it felt different. For so long, he had felt numb, shut down, even when he cried or screamed he still felt so empty and broken inside. But now he was face to face with the man who caused all those emotions, all those conflicted feelings. He had so much he wanted to say to him and he didn’t even know where to start. 

Seeing his father again was making every unspoken thought he had held since the arrest bubble in his throat. 

And this time he didn’t let them out in cries.

“Dad?” The word was soft, strained, Malcolm’s throat immediately feeling scratchy and dry from lack of use. It felt weird to speak again, uncomfortable, but still with the slightest bit of ease, like he felt whenever he rode his bike for the first time after winter had ended. Of course the first word he spoke in months had to be the only thing he had been thinking about the entire time; his father.

Martin smiled and nodded encouragingly. His knew how wide his eyes must be and he attempted to hide his excitement, not wanting to overplay his hand. One wrong gesture and his son could walk out that door, never to be seen again. 

Malcolm hesitated, unsure of what to say next. He had hoped being able to get out even a single word would suddenly make speaking easier, but he was still at a loss. Part of his subconscious was yelling at him to leave, to go back to his mother and Gil. But he was too curious, too desperate to understand his father. Maybe if he understood, these feelings of brokenness would leave him.

“Can I ask you something?”

Malcolm kept his face blank, shoving his hands in his pocket so his dad wouldn’t see how much they were shaking. He was stalling; he knew his father would answer him, but he was still nervous to pose the question, the one that was always haunting him now. 

“Yes, of course, Malcolm.” Martin knew what the question was going to be. Obviously there were many, many questions the child had, but Martin knew his son was too inquisitive to ask anything before he asked the question that had already been asked of Martin, by lawyers, by reporters, by cops, dozens of times, always meet with silence on his part. 

“Why did you kill all those people?” 

Malcolm felt a sense of relief flooding through his system, finally being able to speak those seven simple words out loud. His face and body language remained aloof, but inside he was on his knees begging his father to explain it, explain why he had hurt so many people, explain why he went away from him. 

“Uh…” Martin feigned surprise at the question, quietly thinking to himself ‘that’s my boy, always so clever, always knows what to ask.’ But he couldn’t let that on, he needed to give Malcolm a reason to keep coming back to him. Keep him guessing.

“That...Well, uh, well…” He chuckled quietly. “I’m not sure I know the answer. If there even is one.” 

Hey, at least he was being somewhat honest with the kid. 

Martin continued on, subtly eyeing his son to gauge his reaction. He still wasn’t letting much on, but Martin knew his son better than anyone else did. He could tell when he was clinging on to his every word. “But...I have some time on my hands. Maybe we can figure it out.”

Malcolm betrayed his emotions momentarily, quickly looking down and back up again, blinking. Martin could tell he was processing his answer. It probably wasn’t the one he wanted; the child was never a fan of anything open ended. He needed closure. But that drive for answers was exactly what Martin wanted from Malcolm. 

He leaned forward, whispering, as if this was a very important and very special secret only for the two of them; “Together.” 

Malcolm squirmed, a clear contrast between the stillness he had kept for the whole time they had been standing across from each other. He didn’t know what to say to his father. The word, together, echoed through his mind. Did that mean his father wanted to see him again? Malcolm felt guilty for the quick rush of excitement that moved through him. He knew he shouldn’t want to see his father again. He quickly attempted to justify himself, prove that he wasn’t just going to blindly go back to his father, even though every part of him just wanted to beg the guard to unlock the cage so he could give him a hug. 

“They call you a monster.” Malcolm phrased it as neutrally as possible, just stating a fact. If he were being honest, he still couldn’t see his father as a monster. Monsters were scary. His father didn’t scare him. His father was the one who always told him how smart he was, how special he was. His father let him stay up all night with him in his office, teaching him human anatomy, even though Malcolm knew he had work in the morning. His father read him stories, and made him hot chocolate with marshmallows, and took him to the natural history museum. Monsters didn’t do those things.

But still, Malcolm had to wonder. If everyone else saw his father as a monster besides him, that had to make him wrong, didn't it? He continued: “On TV, kids at school.” 

A long pause followed, Malcolm’s eyes skittering around the room before finally meeting his father’s. “Are you?”

Now this question had actually surprised Martin. He hadn’t expected so much boldness from his son, at least not in his current state. At first he felt some rage. People were already poisoning his son's mind, trying to turn him away from him. But it had to be expected; no one understood him, but if he could get anyone to see the truth behind his actions, it was Malcolm. It might take some time, but Malcolm would one day accept his inheritance. Realize they were the same. 

He just had to keep him coming back.

“Oh. Oh, no, my boy.” Martin got even closer to the bars, tempting how much leeway he had with the guard. He shook his head, using the same, reassuring voice he used when Malcolm was young and woke up from a bad dream, crying about ghouls hidden in his closet and under his bed. “There’s no such thing as monsters.”

A devilish smile spread across his lips. Malcolm stared back, his coldness beginning to melt away, turning into a desperate look of understanding. He wanted to believe his father more than anything in the world. 

It was there that Martin knew he had him. Hook, line, and sinker. 

No one was going to keep him from his son. 

\---------------

Malcolm had been with his father for twenty seven minutes and thirty four seconds. 

Gil had been keeping a close eye on his watch; it gave him something to focus on besides the forty million thoughts rushing through his head about every way this visit could go wrong. He knew Jessica was doing the same thing right next to him.

Jessica was trying so hard to appear collected, but Gil could see how nervous she was. Every five minutes or so she would take a compact mirror from her purse and comb through her already immaculate hair, just so she had something to do with her hands. Gil knew she must be running through just as many, if not more, worst case scenarios in her mind as he was. 

“How many more minutes?” She asked, not even turning to face him.

“About three,” Gil replied, trying to sound nonchalant. 

Jessica had been very clear with the guard; Malcolm wasn’t to spend a second more than thirty minutes with Martin. He technically had an hour a week for visitation, but Jessica wasn’t about to let him have the full time with their son. She just needed Malcolm to have enough time to see how horrible he really was, to see the truth about his father. 

“Thank God. I don’t think I could stand five more minutes in this wretched place.” 

“What do you...what do you think he’s saying to Malcolm?”

Jessica pursed her lips and sat up straighter, trying to keep her voice detached, but confident. “Lies. I expect nothing less from him. But Malcolm is smart. He’ll see right through it and realize he doesn’t need to feel so … conflicted about losing him. He’ll realize what a monster the man is.” 

Jessica was beginning to shake. Gil would have tried to comfort her if he wasn’t feeling so nervous himself. He watched the seconds hand on his watch make a nearly full rotation. Forty five seconds left. If Malcolm wasn’t out within the next fifteen seconds, he was probably going to run through the doors and grab the boy himself. 

But before Gil could do that, the door was opening and Malcolm was stepping in to the lobby with the guard close behind. 

Gil and Jessica stood immediately, with the former rushing forward to take Malcolm’s hand and lead him away from the guard, as if to keep him as far away from anything more in this place. When he was back by the chairs, Jessica leaned down to hug him, trying to keep herself from crying. 

Malcolm didn’t return the embrace, opting to keep his fists balled up in his pants pocket. Gil noticed that his expression was exactly the same as it had been when he’d left; empty, closed off, indifferent. He didn’t know whether that was good or bad; the whole point of this visit was to get him to open up, but Gil also really didn’t want that to happen under these circumstances. What was better, Malcolm remanding shut down, or him only opening up because of his father? Gil didn’t even want to think about the implications the latter would come with. 

Gil nodded a thanks to the guard and he walked back into the main building, leaving him, Malcolm, and Jessica alone in the lobby.

“Gil, can you grab Malcolm’s coat, please? I think we all would like to get out of here.” Jessica stood, huffing as she wrapped her own coat tighter around herself. “Come on sweetie, let’s go home. I’ll have Louisa bake cookies and we can all...talk.”

Jessica smiled. It was a fake one, but she needed to stay positive in front of Malcolm. The boy still wasn’t looking either of them in the eye, still squirming, with that blank expression on his face. 

Gil gestured for the two of them to follow, but Malcolm didn’t move. His expression was growing uneasy and Gil felt his chest tighten. What had Martin said to him?

He stepped back to meet Malcolm and put a hand on his shoulder. “Come on kid, you heard your mom. Let’s get going. I’ll call Jackie and tell her to come over too. That sound good?”

Malcolm remained still. He took his hands out of his pockets and began fidgeting with them, still looking down. 

Jessica and Gil looked at each other, each expecting the other to say, or do, something.

But before either could react, Malcolm opened his mouth, and said the first thing he had said to them in four months.

“When can I visit dad again?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
